"Continue?"
The Magic Array Hub asked again in its distinctive mechanical voice, "Are you certain, Horus Lupercal? What comes next is not a textual recounting, but a first-person recording reproduced from The Emperor's memories and Psionic power."
Angron shook his head expressionlessly. He knew very well what would happen next. He had not been there himself; at that time, he had been trapped together with Lorgar Aurelian in the endless Warp storm. The reason he knew these things so clearly was because of Fulgrim.
More accurately, because of the Fulgrim he had first come to know, that scar-covered phoenix. In many conversations afterward, the latter had spoken of his regret—he had once told Angron through tears that if he had arrived just a moment earlier, perhaps Horus would not have died.
And Angron knew there were no ifs.
The Lord of the Red Sands waited calmly. He knew that, no matter what, this recording would definitely be played. At this very moment, the newly born Wolf-Master sitting before him was proving him right with a complicated expression.
Horus drew in a deep, deep breath, so deep it was unsettling, as if he meant to burst his lungs. Then he nodded.
"Yes, I am certain," he said slowly. "I want to see it."
"Permission obtained," the Hub announced coldly. "Projection mode will now begin to change. 'Immersive' mode is activating. Please prepare yourself, Horus Lupercal."
In the next instant, Horus felt the world spin.
"Come out, Sanguinius!"
Someone was roaring in fury, his anger laid bare in his voice. He advanced, then swung down his Warhammer. Pure violence brought pure slaughter, and the traitors were killed by him like stalks of straw.
The martial skill he had honed through countless hardships was now turned against those who had once been